I Want To Know Who I Am
by Sapphire Hayden
Summary: A tale of how a son of Nemesis finds himself. Rated for very minor language.


"Dad! Look look look!"

A small boy, no more than five years of age, bounded happily across the smooth marble floor towards the man whose face was glued to a computer screen. Undaunted by the fact that his father was very preoccupied, he went to shake the swivel chair the older man was on.

"Dad, come on…" the little black-haired boy whined, continuing to push at the chair. Held delicately in his chubby hands was a small sheet of paper splattered with different colors. While anyone could've barely made out the stick figures almost drowning in the mess of watercolors, he still held it aloft with pride. After all, it was a masterpiece—basically the first time he ever handled real paint. Brimming with pride, he looked expectantly at the old man before him, his slanted eyes filled with such childish hope.

Hope that was about to be crushed by the claws of ignorance.

"Not now, Ethan," the older man sighed in exasperation, catching the boy's wrist before he could make another attempt to move the chair. "Later; I'm busy."

The smile on the boy's face turned upside-down. "But… but…"

"No," his father said firmly, finally glancing at the boy who wanted his attention. His hair was of the same jet black shade as his son, though cropped neatly at the back to give a business-like appearance. He considered the five-year-old for a few moments, his lips forming a tight line at the sight. "And clean up after yourself, please," he advised, nudging his son on the shoulder.

Shoulders drooping, the small boy made his way back to his room. With one last pained look at the artwork he poured all his effort to, he bit back a sob before crumpling the thing and throwing it at the nearest trash bin.

His name was Ethan Nakamura, a boy whose father didn't care.

* * *

"Is it real?"

"No way! I thought they didn't have these anymore!"

Every eye was wide, every mouth open, every stare focused on the long samurai sword gleaming on the wooden desk. The katana was unsheathed, its case ignored on the floor. No one wanted to pay attention to the deep black case. Who would, anyway, when the greater attraction was the silver blade gleaming brightly under the fluorescent? The weapon couldn't have been less than twenty inches long with a curved blade easily able to pierce flesh and bone. It was a historical artifact that certainly did not belong to a classroom filled with sixth graders.

Ethan smirked smugly. His arms were folded on his chest and he held his chin high, feeling a sense of superiority at the fact that it was he who bravely brought the katana to school. Anyone who knew how hard it was to steal one from his father's large collection can say that it was quite a feat. Add the fact that he actually managed to smuggle it in the institution when the security guard turned a blind eye. Of course, there lingered the small worry of getting it out of the school and putting it back in his father's store room before he could notice, but Ethan shrugged the thought aside for now. He would cross the bridge when he got there.

"Man, Ethan. You're one heck of a dude," Peter said, completely in awe as he clapped him on the back. Ethan felt a sense of pride washing over him. Being one of the popular kids, Peter never spoke to him before.

"Yeah, thanks," he responded, looking at Peter but the boy's eyes were still zeroed in on the ancient Japanese weapon. His next words rolled smoothly off his tongue before he could think. "Wanna see me have a go with it?"

Cheers of agreement followed, filling Ethan up with even more confidence. He did it. He was no longer the silent kid who sat at the back of the class and failed every quiz. That time had come to an end. Now, Ethan was finally in the spotlight. This was his time to shine.

Silence fell just as Ethan's fingers wrapped around the katana's thick hilt. Everywhere he looked, he saw faces beaming with wonder and admiration, fueling up his desire to impress them all. The Japanese-American boy took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the sword. Of course, he had no idea what he was about to do nor did he have any inkling about swordfighting, but he decided not to let anyone know that. After all, this was his moment to astound his classmates. No way was he going to do anything to ruin it.

But just as he raised the sword up to slash at an imaginary enemy, the door burst open. A chill ran down Ethan's spine as he froze in mid-swipe, eyes widened as he slowly turned his head to see the wrinkly teacher entering the room. The gray-haired man stared back at him before his eyes settled on the dangerous katana wielded by the now white-faced sixth-grader.

Ethan was expelled. His father was beyond furious.

But then it didn't matter, because he was Ethan Nakamura, the boy who brought a katana to school.

* * *

Cabin 11 was too crowded. Ethan felt nauseous just at the smell of different scents mixing together in the cramped old cabin. Unable to stand it any longer, he squeezed through two plump kids and almost collided with a freckled girl before finally pushing the door open. The first breath of fresh air felt like heaven to his tortured lungs.

It had been two weeks since Ethan learned of his true lineage. It was frankly too much to take in. After all, one wasn't inclined to think that he was about to be pushed headfirst into a world that only used to live in mythology books. In fact, Ethan was still a little unnerved and jumped at the sight of something new. He shuddered, remembering the time when he first met a naiad. Gods, that was very embarrassing.

He leaned against the cabin, back stiff against the wall. A few more breaths of this cool air and he'd be good as new.

"Hey," a high feminine voice chimed and he quickly looked up at a girl smiling sweetly at him. "Guess it's a little hot in there, huh?"

Ethan managed a small smile. "Yeah, you know how it is in Cabin 11. So many people."

The girl laughed, the sound ringing pleasantly in his ears. "I know the feeling. I've been new once too. I'm Jamie, by the way. What's your name?"

"Ethan," he replied promptly. He looked down at his clammy hand and dug it deep inside his pocket, knowing that it was probably not a good idea for Jamie to shake his sweaty hand.

"Who's your godly parent? Are you a son of Hermes?"

Ethan inwardly groaned. Was that all that campers had to ask these days? The seemingly harmless question struck a nerve in the young demigod and he squared his shoulders, trying not to make his disappointment obvious. "I'm undetermined," he said with a slight shrug, but crumbling inside at the pain from having to say that kind of answer.

The slightest trace of sympathy flickered across Jamie's eyes and he felt even more miserable. "Oh, I see…" she trailed off, twirling some strands of chocolate brown hair between her fingers. The abrupt shift of atmosphere made both parties feel awkward; that much was clear. "You'll be claimed soon," Jamie tried to reassure him, but the damage was done.

Ethan shrugged like it was no big deal, but the anger had already started to take control of him. "Yeah, well," he muttered, patting his jet black hair down to cover his pale face, "Guess we can't be all claimed like you. I have to get going. See you around, Jamie."

Without even bothering to wait for an answer, Ethan already walked away. His hands balled into fists inside his pockets, his shoulders still rigid from the conversation. He couldn't really help it. Getting claimed was a sore topic and he didn't need people to remind him of it.

He didn't want to face the fact that he was Ethan Nakamura, an unclaimed demigod.

* * *

Running. That seemed to be the only thing his life revolved around now. After all, Ethan wasn't about to stay in that wretched camp any longer. He didn't want to receive superficial sympathetic looks whenever the fact that he was undetermined came to light. He no longer wanted to watch the other kids in the Hermes cabin get claimed by their godly parents. It only made him wonder when his mother would finally recognize him as her son. If he was going to get recognized.

The demigod sucked in a raspy breath. What was wrong with him? Why wasn't his immortal mother claiming him? Did he not live up to her expectations? A strangled sob forced its way out of his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to prevent himself from breaking down. It was quite a stupid thing to do, anyway. He wasn't going to earn his place if he was to be crying there like an idiotic weakling.

"Damn the gods." His voice was rusty and hoarse from lack of use. "Damn them all."

Then, the most peculiar thing happened. Growing vaguely aware of the faint light filtering through his closed eyelids, Ethan recoiled and closed his eyes even tighter. Styx, was a cop aiming a flashlight at his face? That seemed likely, seeing as he was an underage teenager frolicking about in New York at this very late hour. However, as he brought his hand up to shield himself from the light, Ethan realized that it was way too much brightness for just a single flashlight. It almost seemed like the sun was a few feet away, threatening to burn him up.

Soon the light faded and Ethan thought it safe to open his eyes again. The hazy dark spots dancing around in his vision did no help as he tried to assess the situation. Why had it become dark again? What was that light all about? His demigod senses tingled and his hand immediately went to the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt. A monster? he thought with a repressed shudder. Hoping for the best, Ethan took a deep breath and unsheathed his celestial bronze blade.

That was when his mouth dropped open in surprise.

A woman stood - or floated, rather - a short distance away. Her curly locks fell neatly past her shoulders, framing her plump oval-shaped face. Her outfit comprised of flowing robes, dangling an inch or so above the ground. Ethan's first impression of her was of an angel sent from the heavens. The similarity was quite easy to make with the two bird-like wings fully spread out on her back.

"Ethan Nakamura," the woman spoke. Her voice caused Ethan more surprise than the fact that she knew his full name. He had expected something heavenly, something that sounded like bells chiming peacefully in the distance. Instead, he was met by a mixture of an angelic and a scratchy tone. It wasn't really bad to the ears. It was more like the two blended equally, the voice sounding somewhat harmonized - as if they balanced each other out. At the realization, a certain name quickly rose to his mind and he wasted no time in saying it.

"Nemesis."

The angel did nothing to confirm this, at least that was what Ethan thought. What with the darkness of his surroundings, he counted himself lucky enough to even figure out what was in front of him right now. His heart hammered in his chest in both anxiety and nervousness. Could she be...?

"Are you my mother?" he asked hopefully, trying not to make his restlessness obvious.

Nemesis considered him for a few moments. "Ethan Nakamura," she said, urgency lacing her tone. "I will give you a choice. A gift, you could say. But heed my warning, young one, even the smallest gifts demand something in payment. Something to be sacrificed. Are you willing to accept this?"

Ethan's eyes shone. Though Nemesis didn't answer his question, he was beyond thrilled that she had taken the time to even speak with him. And not only that, but she was also offering him a gift. A gift from a god! That simple thing was enough to erase the worries he had just a few minutes earlier. His heart seemed to run at a hundred miles an hour in his chest and he wouldn't be at all surprised if it suddenly burst out of it. He had never been this excited in his whole life.

"Y-Yes," he croaked out. Deciding that he had sounded pathetic, Ethan cleared his throat and repeated in a firm yet shaky voice. "Yes. I accept."

He thought he saw the faintest trace of a smile on Nemesis' features, but he couldn't be sure. "You have a remarkable fate set out in front of you, Ethan," she mused as she drew closer to him, her robes billowing behind her like a bridal train. "The world is going out of balance. I'm certain that you've noticed." Her voice took on a rather irritated tone as she looked up at the skies with a slight scowl, as if they were the cause of her miseries. Nemesis sighed before looking back at Ethan, scowl fading to be replaced by none other than a stoic face. Ethan didn't mind the less-than-happy expression on the goddess's face. He already considered it a great honor to be even looked at by someone that great. He probably wouldn't have even minded if the goddess scowled at him. "One day, you will restore the world's balance. I can promise that much to you."

Ethan was too busy marveling at this new development to notice the bitter edge Nemesis' voice took. "Restore the word's balance...?" he repeated in a breathy voice, not realizing that he had completely lowered his sword that it hung limp at his side.

Nemesis stopped abruptly, lips set in a tight line. "But this is not free. As you mortals put it, 'there's no such thing as a free lunch'. It all comes with a price, Ethan. You know how it must be - everything must be balanced. In order to bestow to you a gift this great, you should also make a great enough sacrifice."

"I accept it!" Ethan suddenly blurted out. No sooner had the words left his lips when he clasped a hand over his mouth. That was straight-out rude! "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to, I mean - I humbly accept your gift..." he trailed off meekly, bowing his head in respect.

The lightest of smirks crossed the goddess's face and she turned away, robes whipping behind her. "Very well then. If that is what you decide..."

Ethan braced himself for the worst. It turned out to be the best decision as barely a second later, blinding pain erupted from his head, particularly coming from his left eye. His sword dropped with a clang to the ground as a pained scream ripped his throat. His hands went to clutch at his eye, which felt like it was stabbed with thousands of knives. Hot tears poured down his cheeks. What kind of pain was this? Ethan sank to the ground, his trembling body curling into a fetal position. Was this the price of his decision to accept his fate?

Soon, the hoarse screams died in his throat and his movements slowed into a stop. His breathing was still ragged and the pain still clear as day, but at least it had begun to fade into some sort of numbness. While it wasn't altogether reassuring, Ethan was relieved. It was a few more moments until he completely straightened up into a proper sitting position. He grew aware of the fact that he was still clutching his head, particularly his left eye. But then, a cold sense of dread washed over him at a certain realization.

What felt like his left eye only seemed like an empty socket on his skull. Shuddering like crazy, Ethan withdrew his hand and reopened his other eye. His blurry vision shook a little, but there was no mistaking the dark stain of red splattered on his hands.

Nemesis had taken his left eye.

Before he could even process this fact, a familiar womanly voice started echoing in his mind. "There will always be a price to pay, but the reward will always be equal to, if not greater than, the cost to achieve it. Please keep this in mind, Ethan... my son."

Ethan slumped against the cold brick wall. He had just been claimed by his mother, Nemesis. No, it was more than that. She talked to him, advised him, even. Nemesis may have taken his eye, but it was for the greater good, for his immortal parent also promised him a great destiny to match his sacrifice. His mother had practically deemed him 'the chosen one.' Out of all her children, Nemesis chose him.

Whatever resentment Ethan bore his mother before had all but disappeared. Despite the lingering sense of pain from the spot that once held his now missing body part, a delicious sense of contentment washed over him in waves, and it was far greater than any feeling he had ever encountered. It was of pride and satisfaction that he had finally been recognized.

Ethan lay there, half-sitting against the brick wall, hand still clutching the space where his left eye used to be. His heart still raced, but it was more of adrenaline than anything else. A smile pulled on his lips for he was also filled with joy, for after all these years, he finally found his purpose. After all, he finally found out who he was.

He was Ethan Nakamura, the son of Nemesis who will restore balance to the world.


End file.
